


seasons of us

by fated_addiction



Category: K-pop, Real Person Fiction, Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Friendship, Growing Pains, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 15:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13707681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated_addiction/pseuds/fated_addiction
Summary: it's a musty closet in the music room.or, wendy, irene, and the pains of growing up together.





	1. fall

-

 

 

sometimes to  
self-discover  
you must  
self-destruct.  
 **rm drake**

 

 

 

it's a musty closet in the music room.

"i'm a stereotype," wendy complains from the floor.

her heels rest against the doorframe. she stares at the ceiling. there's a leak; the tiles have a water stain. next to her, irene laughs. she's sitting neatly, pressing her palms into her uniform. making sure it's still pressed.

"you're not," she answers. "and since when do you worry about these things?"

"these _things_?"

irene rolls her eyes. "why are you looking for a fight?"

"i'm not." wendy pouts. stares at the leak some more. she then sighs, dramatically. shifts and sits up. her hair skews itself; wisps framing her face. "i'm just... moody. can't i just be moody, unnie?"

there is math homework in another corner. wendy finished hers. she stretches her arms over her head. sighs loudly. is this it, she wonders. then stops. because saying the words are still really, really scary.

"you could talk about it," irene replies gently.

"i don't think it'll do anything."

"how do you know?"

wendy looks up. bites her lip. she studies irene. then shifts and reaches out, flicking her nose. "i know," she repeats. "i also know that if i bring it up that nothing is going to happen. not because i don't want it to, but because these are the way things go... nowhere."

irene is beautiful. always has been. since they were in kindergarten and hair in twin braids. it was always a thing. "bae joohyun, now she's going to _grow up_." and that's something, somewhere between intimidating and awful to someone else, especially looking from the outside in. these feelings don't make it any easier. wendy will confess: she is doomed to feel these things from bottom of her belly, they crawl into butterflies and knots, all the way into the back of her throat. wendy is good at a lot of things. but trusting herself to be vulnerable is not one of them.

"you're way too serious, seungwan-ah." irene shifts. crosses her knees to one side. her palms press into the floor. "it's not good to be this serious."

"someone has to be," she mutters. but can't look away.

it's because irene is close. and the air is sort of stifling. it's heavy in a way that it doesn't need to be; her breathing comes out in short, painful tufts of air. crawls into her throat. sits snug. and then jumps and expands and startles her. irene is too close, her brain says. too, too close.

she will not take responsibility for this: jerking forward, slipping a tongue into irene's mouth, waiting until she sighs or moans because this isn't a first kiss for either of them. they are nothing but clumsy hands; not touching each other, but failing to understand each other too. wendy tries to be taller. irene scoots closer. bites her lip. and honestly, it's the end of a kiss that feels like it should have never happened.

after, wendy's mouth is hot and heavy. it dries. "see?" she says.


	2. winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _her bedsheets are blue._
> 
>  
> 
> or, wendy, irene, and the pains of growing up together.

-

 

 

 

her bedsheets are blue.

"i can't believe your mother sent me to visit you with a new ironing board," wendy mutters.

irene blushes. angrily? maybe. but she's too distracted by the vision of wendy standing in the middle of her dorm room.

"i needed one?" irene tries to say. bites her lip and drops into seulgi's bed. mostly, it's because she's not here. "and besides, you don't need an excuse to come and visit me... you know that, right?"

wendy rolls her eyes. drops into irene's bed in one grand, sweeping motion. even drops back into her pillows. it's been month, irene thinks. two friends, two different universities. two different people. wendy even seems larger than life. big, wide eyes. her shoulders set back with confident. a fixed smile on her face that is equal parts amused and mysterious. for irene, she's beautiful. and complicated. complicated, if anything, because she hasn't thought like this in awhile.

and wendy is now in her bed.

"how are classes?"

irene blinks. "what?"

"school?" wendy turns into her side. her hair spills across irene's pillow. by now, her sheets smell like her. "you know, classes? part of paving your path to the presidency. or social justice. or creating an ironing board that will iron clothes itself."

"shut up," she mutters. irene feels her face flush. "i find it relaxing."

"i know."

it's a weird reality: devastating, going from spending almost every day together to accidental holidays. she has been thinking about wendy a lot. introduces her through pictures. this is seungwan-ah. we were best friends in high school. she's in university too - for singing and speaking, like, fifty languages. because that's partially true. but having wendy here is disorienting enough to push at her. i miss you, she wants to say. it's weird just seeing you. it's weirder knowing you're within reach.

but irene doesn't. irene is not like wendy. words aren't easy for her; she's pragmatic. 

"my mom didn't say she saw you," she murmurs, and shifts to sit on her bed too. she feels her nerves start unravel. "or that she was sending you," she adds. her face feels hot and wendy laughs. "i feel like she'd tell me."

wendy shrugs. "we don't live that far apart, joohyunniee," she drawls. arches into turning onto her back.

there is a long, awkward pause. until irene cannot help herself. she reaches forwards. drags her fingers into wendy's face. running them across her cheek, along her jaw. only to try and pull herself closer. or remember. or to not feel guilty about being bad at this. 

"you look tired," she punctuates, "seung-wan-ah."

"i'm tired."

it's like a whole new person. wendy's eyes are bright and wide. her smile is strange, not sullen but serious enough to send butterflies into irene's stomach. she hasn't felt like this in a long time. it's different when it's just the two of them. irene bites at her lip. swallows. then pushes at wendy's bangs. maybe to see her eyes. maybe not to.

"i'm going to do something stupid," irene murmurs. means. because she doesn't know how else to say it. her eyes are drawn to wendy's mouth. "i think i knew i was going to do this the moment you showed up."

a slow motion moment: her mouth opens, then closes, she leans over wendy, a hand pressing against her belly - gently, with some pressure. mostly because she's aware, always aware. gestures mean something. words mean something. with wendy, it always has meaning. so she stretches herself over her, pressing her mouth to her forehead, then to her cheek. this is is as far as i can go, she thinks. panics. her palms feel hot. there's a lump in her throat. she cannot think beyond whatever this is.

"are you going to kiss me?" wendy asks. sounds amused. her voice is husky.

"i - probably," irene whispers back.

wendy wets her lips. "okay."

"okay?"

"you can kiss me," wendy says.

irene's fingers spread across wendy's stomach. just against the hem of her t-shirt. she leans in. closer, closer. _closer_. to the point when her mouth just hovers over wendy's and her courage starts to dissipate. her heart is pounding in her ears. wendy's not moving. wendy is usually the one that moves first. closer, of course. she has that kind of patience. but irene feels stuck and it's almost devastating. her mouth ghosts across the corner of wendy's mouth and the knots in her stomach start to settle in.

instead, irene pulls back. "let's go get dinner," she says. 

 

 

 

 

 

you know what's cruel?

later, much later, irene has an empty dorm room. seulgi texts her and says something like 'STAYING w SY!' which could mean a number of things. since seulgi is still a mystery. or just really, really private.

but irene has an empty room. she's in bed, on her back. aware of the ironing board that leans against the wall. of wendy's perfume, settled deeply into her bedsheets and pillow. of the way her hand starts to travel, from her throat, along her breast, across the slope over belly. her fingers hover just over her thighs and she thinks: i could have done this differently.

her thumb presses against the thin, cotton fabric of her pants. " _seungwan_ ," she breathes.


	3. spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _the bottle of wine is empty._
> 
> or, wendy, irene, and the pains of growing up together.

-

 

 

 

the bottle of wine is empty.

the second sits between them in the bed. watches the movie like an honorary member for the night.

"your bed smells weird," irene comments. she waivers and wendy chokes, watching the alcohol flush into her face. "like you spilled a perfume counter on top of it. did sooyoung break into your room?"

"probably." wendy shrugs. the movie in front of them blurs. she gives up and shifts, dropping back into her pillows. this is the first, real night she's had at her apartment. even thought it's been three months. "she said that the place is haunted and she was going to sage it for me. i told her to go crazy... except it smells like chanel and i'm missing my crock pot."

irene chokes. "sounds about right."

"she means well."

irene laughs.

it echoes in the movie too. wendy isn't sure if it's a good idea to have the television in her room yet. mostly, she's over moving. half her kitchen is still full of boxes. irene cancelled plans to help her unpack. instead, they've split a piece and their second bottle of wine is disappearing pretty quickly. sorry not sorry, she thinks.

alcohol is also a stupid idea. wendy feels her fingers twitch. irene shifts and joins her in the bed. drags the covers over her legs. shifts to come closer and ends up taking the bottle of wine. puts it on the floor - not before she steals a sip.

"this is nice," irene says quietly. sounds like she means it. rustles all those stupid feelings that wendy shoves and hides and prays for nothing to happen. because they're just feelings. they're dangerous and irresponsible. "your place," irene adds. "it feels like home." she pauses and corrects herself. "a home."

it comes out of nowhere. wendy makes no effort to mention the ring that sits in irene's bag. for someone else. they don't talk about the someone else. wendy thinks she might do something stupid anyway.

"i'm glad you're here," she says. gently, maybe. her throat burns a little. she even turns on her side to face irene. she's a little braver. "it's a nice way to settle in. i know we've been busy."

irene turns on her side. her eyes close and she laughs breathlessly. "busy," she agrees.

the color of her voice changes. wendy finds it unrecognizable. mostly, it's because she doesn't want to get into it. it seems dangerous. or hard. and she's long since promised: there's a line and they'll keep to the line. it's the silent agreement.

it's just that irene is here, right in front of her, in her bed and her bed isn't always going to be the same. it'll have the memory and the shape of irene's memory. it'll color and rest and write itself into how she decides to share this space with someone. anyone - anyone that's not irene. it used to make her angry. and sad. all at herself. because if she opened her mouth and said something, maybe the idea of rejection wouldn't be as scary. or sad. maybe moving forward could happen.

"i'm in love with you," she says, out loud. it's not alcohol-ridden. not completely. wendy feels it in her throat. "since high school, i think." she laughs too. "i actually think it feels like forever, but i really don't know how to navigate that."

"me too."

wendy watches irene's eyes open. "what?"

"me too," irene says. she licks her lips. "i've been in love with you for..." she smiles wistfully. then groans, hitting the heel of her palm to her forehead. "i don't think it matters when. it just seems like i've been in love with you. just don't remember when it started."

it's an impasse and wendy knows. knows irene well enough to know that she's going to be pragmatic about this. because they've kept each other in limbo for so long, that it doesn't make sense to do anything beyond that. or mostly, it's because they don't know how to be anything else. wendy, irene, and separate people.

wendy swallows. "i saw the ring."

"i know." irene's knee pushes against wendy's thigh. "that's why i brought it."

irene's always been a terrible liar. 

so wendy looks at her, really looks at her, smiles sadly and then tastes the laugh - it unfurls from the back of her throat, almost in a panic, but mostly because she knows irene and irene knows her and this is how they stand.

"i wouldn't expect anything less," she says softly.

this much is true.

 

 

 

 

 

sex is quiet. on the kitchen table, just before irene leaves.

wendy bites irene's lip. hard. she's spiteful without meaning to be; especially since irene sinks between her legs with her mouth, shoving her tongue inside of her. because irene is just as spiteful when she wants to be.

" _joohyun_ ," wendy moans. drops her head back. her hands slam against the table, knocks the bags of the end. neither of them see: a wallet, the velvet box, a wad of receipts and concert tickets. wendy's nails drag into wood and irene bites the inside of her thigh, pushing her fingers inside of her too. " _jooo_ -"

maybe she finishes. maybe she won't. but the heat explodes deep in her belly. and irene's mouth is slick and wet. her eyes are dark and wendy hates how satisfied she is that she'll bring that home. that she'll bring _her_ home with her. inside, and inside her bed.

this is what it's like, adults in love.


	4. summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"i'm divorced."_
> 
> or, wendy, irene, and the pains of growing up together.

-

 

 

"i'm divorced."

wendy looks bored. irene might love her for it. again.

"happens?" she shrugs. her nose wrinkles over her latte. irene can't see her eyes. the sunglasses she wears are bright and heavy. "it's not going to affect the outcome of your life," wendy continues. "you're just divorced like... how you hate peanut butter or something weirdly random that you do. i don't know. do you still hate black cherry ice cream?"

irene is startled into being surprised. "yes."

"see? divorced, hates black cherry ice cream, but weirdly likes to iron."

irene laughs. she's surprised that wendy agreed to meet her. mostly because wendy disappears for weeks on end, when songwriting. the world isn't going to stop moving, she always says. but she's also aware of that, picks a cafe near the studio, and hopes she can keep wendy out for an hour more than she usually does. it's nice to see someone who isn't a divorce lawyer. or her ex-wife.

"sooyoung told me to join a dating site."

"you wouldn't last a week." wendy is teasing. her voice is dry. "because you've got to be committed."

"i'm not really interested in dating."

a strange expression crosses wendy's face. "i know."

"what about you?" the lump in her throat comes out of nowhere. irene shifts to the edge of her seat. "dating, i mean."

wendy shrugs. "no one to invite to dinner," she says. they both know that someone in their friend group would have said something. irene's met only luna. luna lasted the longest. she remembers why. it was also the only time irene ever felt jealous - the kind that's purely selfish, sharp, and inserts itself into your gut. it was worse because she was married; a lot of things were worse because she was married.

"they're missing out."

by then, irene is already digging her hole. and the conversation is over.

 

 

 

 

 

it's raining when irene wakes up.

the sound hits her window. her phone is vibrating against the pillow. by her head. 

her eyes ache. "hello?" she croaks and answers the phone. somewhere in the kitchen, there's an empty bottle of wine.

"i miss you."

wendy's voice is an unmistakeable greeting. it's painful. she's hushed.

"what?" irene asks.

"i miss you," wendy repeats. "and i know you miss me. i know that we keep doing this weird thing where we don't talk about our feelings. and then, you know, we charge into relationships with other people. it's worse for them because we keep thinking about each other... there was no beginning, no end, we just _were_ and that was probably the most irresponsible thing we ever did to each other."

irene's stomach churns. she sits up. rubs her eyes with a fist. "do you really want to do this now?"

"when is a good time? in ten years, when we start talking to each other again?"

"that's not fair," irene murmurs.

"no, i guess not. but then we've never been fair to each other," wendy agrees.

there's a pause. irene feels nauseous. she stumbles into standing. walks blindly to her bathroom down the hall. her apartment is still brand new. her kitchen is smaller. her closet. the keypad code has changed. new, new, and _new_.

"i miss you too," irene says softly, honestly. and the words are so incredibly painful coming from the back of her throat. her eyes squeeze shut and she stops in the hallway, leaning against the wall.

wendy scoffs. or laughs. or does both. the conversation is a mirror of moments they've already had. this time, irene's ring finger is naked and wendy is across the city, trying to move forward. or maybe that hasn't changed either.

how do we fix this, irene doesn't ask. "i'm sorry," she says instead.

the problem? irene never asks wendy to wait for her to be brave.

wendy does hang up.

 

 

 

 

 

sometime soon; or unexpectedly:

backstage, the curtains do nothing for the heat.

sweat starts to roll down wendy's forehead. it gathers and bunch at her breasts. her t-shirt is sticky. there's a ticket on the ground and a program. _a unique show!_ is advertised like she's brand new.

"that was amazing."

she whirls around. wide-eyed, her brain goes through the press popular things to say. i wanted an intimate show, she almost said. i didn't expect this many people, she could say too. but words die and there's irene, standing in front of her with a backstage pass and a small, sudden smile. something that she hasn't seen in years.

wendy doesn't know what to say. and she gets paid to know.

"hi," she croaks.

irene steps forward. she doesn't wait; usually, she'll ask to take her hand. or hug her. or be even near her. her fingers lace through wendy's though and she presses her palm against wendy's palm.

"hi," irene greets. wendy stares. "and i mean it," she says. "you were amazing."

never has an adrenaline rush been equal parts terrifying and amazing. wendy jerks herself forward. wraps her arms around irene and later, she thinks, if this goes south, she's just going to blame the lights, the stage, the music. her guitar cord broke. the lights make everything too _damn_ hot. but it's a rush and it's irene and her brain leaves just as quickly as it used to.

"you're here," she breathes. tears press against her eyes. this isn't irene's first show; something about it feels like this. she came, wendy thinks. by herself, she thinks too. without her asking. "i didn't -"

irene's arms wrap around her waist. her fingers sink into her t-shirt.

"i wanted to be here," she says.

wendy hates herself for it. but it sinks. it sinks and she struggles to breathe - maybe it's because she's smiling so hard. or maybe it's because she starts to laugh. because it's like she's panicked and it's hit her and why does this feel _different_. but she holds onto irene. she presses her mouth to her hair and she doesn't stop grinning.

years later, it's like an i love you.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this an AU? This is an AU. I wanted to try something different this time around. So instead of dividing everything into one, whole piece, I wanted to do each as a 'season' and as a separate, standalone piece. Kind of like a snapshot. Because I've been watching a lot of terrible Romantic dramas on Netflix and here I am.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!


End file.
